Kelsey, trying to decide if she likes boats.
Yes, she decides, this is not so bad.
Living large.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Lake Erie
Last weekend, one of my co-workers invited a few of us out to his house for an afternoon/evening cookout. He happens to live right on a channel connected to Lake Erie, so it was like going on a little vacation. I took Kelsey with me, and she had a great time with 2 other dogs, lots of new people, and her first boat ride. While we were in the boat, we entered Canadian waters for a little while. The weather was perfect in that it wasn't really hot out but the breeze while we were cruising in the boat wasn't too cool either.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Big Boy
When I came to Ann Arbor for the first time (late May of this year) I was introduced by my friend Leigh to a free Saturday morning workout. Somehow she convinced me, while I was on vacation, to wake up at 6am on Saturday and join her for this "circuits workout" which she claimed to be wonderful. I managed to wake up and did go to the workout, and I really did enjoy it. It was well-organized by a physical therapist at a nice PT gym, several of my future co-workers were there, and after we got going it felt great. So as soon as I moved here, I decided to very quickly make the Saturday morning circuits workout a habit. Now, let's take a quick step back. My Saturday morning ritual in Atlanta was to go to Waffle House at around 8am and enjoy a nice breakfast of eggs and hashbrowns (scattered, chunked, double covered). Problem #1: there are no Waffle Houses within 30 miles of Ann Arbor. I realize that working out is probably better ritural than coffee and a greasy breakfast on Saturday morning, so I'm trying to enjoy the change along with the burst of adrenaline to replace the caffeine. However, as an added incentive for attending these workouts, I decided to treat myself to a local indulgence. For every 4 weeks in a row that I make it to the workout, I get to go to breakfast at Big Boy, a chain restaurant here that kind of reminds me of Shoney's or Denny's. I wasn't really sure if this would be a gerat treat or not, as I had never been to a Big Boy, so I was excited yesterday (after week 4!) to try it out. My friend Meghan agreed to join me after circuits, and we enjoyed a nice, long, lazy breakfast and I don't even know how many cups of coffee. I ordered the Big Boy Breakfast which was your typical 2 eggs, biscuits, hashbrowns, choice of meat. The coffee was tasty and always re-filled before it was half empty, and the eggs were cooked perfectly. The hashbrowns were good but a little dry without the special Waffle House grease and with no cheese on top. Overall, however, I give Big Boy a big thumbs up. And to make the whole experience even better, I was able to pose for a picture with Big Boy himself out in front of the restaurant. Four more weeks and I'll definitely be back!
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
First Injury
So today I managed to injure myself at work for the first time, on day 8 of this residency. Hopefully it will be the last time, and I have to say I was lucky it wasn't worse. I was cutting a piece of aluminum upright (basically a long thin bar of aluminum) on the bandsaw. I cut less than an inch of the aluminum off and afterwards (after turning off the bandsaw) very stupidly grabbed the small piece to break it off fully from the rest of the AFO that it was attached to. Well, the metal was so hot from the bandsaw that it burned my thumb and index finger right where I grabbed it. Made me say a dirty word. The good news even though I feel like an idiot is that the pain is much less now (a few hours later) and I didn't slice my finger off on the bandsaw, which is always my number one fear with that machine. In addition to starting my period today and having gotten braces two days ago, let's just say my pain level was pretty intense by the end of the day. Ok, sorry for the whining. I'm done.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
First Week of Residency
My 5 favorite things about work so far:
1. The lab is really organized. REALLY organized.
2. My commute is a 5-minute drive or 15-minute bike ride.
3. It's easy to stay busy but not be overwhelmed - so far.
4. Free coffee.
5. Our office manager has 7 pieces of flair.
1. The lab is really organized. REALLY organized.
2. My commute is a 5-minute drive or 15-minute bike ride.
3. It's easy to stay busy but not be overwhelmed - so far.
4. Free coffee.
5. Our office manager has 7 pieces of flair.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Thirsty?
This evening I somehow managed to pour the perfect ice cold beer into the perfectly prepared frosty glass mug. Couldn't do it again if I tried.
First Day!
Ok, so actually today was officially the second day of my residency. Yesterday we had hospital system orientation, so today was the first day at our clinic. More administrative stuff and orienting took place today, but it felt good to be in the clinic. Tomorrow we start with our one month rotation in the lab, learning the ropes of fabrication.
Sara, Ed, Me
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Sunflowers!
Today I experienced the Michigan countryside for the first time, and I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. Most notably, as my roommate and I were driving south towards a small town called Tecumseh (for a used book sale at the library), we suddenly found ourselves in the midst of a sea of sunflowers. We just had to pull over and admire the beauty, as were many other passers-by on the country road. If you check out the photos below, you can see that this glorious army of thousands is perfectly aligned with all faces pointing in the same direction, towards the sun. On the opposite side of the road, all faces were pointed away from us. Wow. The sunflowers were all about six feet tall. The flowers themselves had very thick, heavy centers with delicate, silky petals that blew softly in the wind. It just so happened that it was also a gorgeous day outside with perfectly blue sky, white fluffy clouds, blazing sun, and a light, cool breeze.
I must to credit my friend Missy for showing me the value of taking pictures from the ground and looking up towards the sky. I can only credit God himself for how beautiful these flowers are.
I must to credit my friend Missy for showing me the value of taking pictures from the ground and looking up towards the sky. I can only credit God himself for how beautiful these flowers are.
Non-Southern Hospitality
I went to pick up a friend this morning here in Ann Arbor. She lives in an apartment that is part of a big house, so there is a parking lot next to the house. I saw one space left and was a little taken aback as I drove towards the open spot and saw this:
Because I had already thought of parking there, I looked around to see if I would be punished for my iniquity. Noone was to be seen. I slowly backed away and vowed to never again look in the direction of that space.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Michigan: Week 1
Alas, after two and a half months of living out of my car and staying on the go, I am officially staying put here in Ann Arbor, Michigan. My parents very graciously accompanied me on the 700 mile drive from Atlanta with a 16 foot truck, my car in tow, and their car following. Here is the view from my parents' car on the road:
I decided to go ahead and transfer my drivers' license and car tag to Michigan so I could register to vote and also have legitimate car insurance, etc. So my car looks a little different already than it did on the drive up here. But don't worry y'all, I'm not a Michigander yet :-)
As you can see, it was quite a load. We arrived in Ann Arbor last Tuesday and immediately unloaded the truck, as I was anxious to find my bed and assemble it in time to sleep in it that night. Mission was accomplished, and it was SO NICE to finally be back in my bed, though I must say I was not without comfortable accommodations all summer, thanks to many wonderful friends and family members.
The first few days here were spent unpacking, getting settled, and checking out the town of Ann Arbor. My parents have some good friends who spend their summers here and were nice enough to show us the ropes and a good time as I was getting settled. My dad's birthday was Thursday, and we had a very nice dinnner with the Coopers that night at The Real Seafood Co. in downtown Ann Arbor. They had the best cole slaw I've ever tasted (and I thought that was a Southern thing) and I tried swordfish for the first time, which was delicious.
What I noticed most about downtown Ann Arbor as we walked around after dinner was that it was really BUSY! After living in and visiting other smallish towns with absolutely dead downtown areas, it was uplifting to walk around and see tons of restaurants with oustide seating that was full and bustling. The weather was perfect, warm but with a cool breeze (not too cool, though, as even I didn't need a sweater). I tried to take a picture to capture the bustling downtown atmosphere, but I recommend visiting to get the full effect.
My parents left on Friday, and I spent a lot of time over the weekend with a friend of mine from Georgia Tech, Leigh, who has been here for a year. I am taking over Leigh's position as orthotic resident at the UofM, so she is sadly moving this week. We went with a few other people on Saturday to the Extremity Games at Pontiac Lake State Park, which was about a 45 min drive from here. It was a gorgeous sunny day and we had a great time just hanging out by the lake and watching wakeboarding and kayaking events (this was an amputee extreme sports competition). As you can see, so far I like the weather in Michigan:
My new roommate, Sara, moved in yesterday, so we are still getting settled in the new place. Kelsey, my dog, is totally freaked out by all the moving and new people and has spent a lot of time under the bed.
I decided to go ahead and transfer my drivers' license and car tag to Michigan so I could register to vote and also have legitimate car insurance, etc. So my car looks a little different already than it did on the drive up here. But don't worry y'all, I'm not a Michigander yet :-)
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Camp
Last week I had the pleasure for the second time of participating as a volunteer counselor at Adventure Amputee Camp. Knowing that I would return from camp just a week before moving to Michigan, I was a little worried about being worn out from the non-stop, 5-day, literal adventure. I found, however, that as the week drew to a close, I was actually rejuvenated. My body was tired from lack of sleep, and my mind was a bit weary from the stress of keeping up with three 10-year old girls, but my spirit was strangely filled with an excitement for life and a readiness to embrace a long-distance move and tough year of residency ahead of me. So how could I possibly feel this fulness after such a busy, sometimes harrowing, week of camp?
I left Atlanta early on Wednesday morning with the full expectation that I would struggle with the demands of camp. After two months off from school, work, or anything that resembles work, I have grown quite accustomed to keeping my own hours and I have had the luxury of placing my own needs on the forefront of every day. I haven't exactly been selfish, so to speak, but I have also not been required to be selfLESS very much. And that is exactly what camp requires. Even before leaving Atlanta, I found myself with two small girls holding onto me for dear life and begging me to ride in their van. I'm not usually a kid magnet, but they saw a familiar face and so I became a magnet and a haven of safety for them. As it turns out, these were two of my three campers for the week, which I found out when we arrived at the Nantahala Outdoor Center a few hours later. My third camper was a girl who attended camp for the first time and did not find me or anyone else to be a haven of safety for the first few days. She was quiet, had difficulty walking (and so would I if I had two prosthetic limbs), and did not adapt well to being told when to do things and where to go.
After a quick lunch, a chaotic reunion between many campers and counselors, and a change of clothes, we all went whitewater rafting. The little kids were on a relatively benign river with a few large ripples of water every now and then. The bigger kids (and me) went on the Nantahala River, which was not at all benign and a cool 55 degrees which left my toes numb by the time we finished the 8-mile ride. Dinner and dry clothes were wonderful, and then the first attempt at bedtime enforcement began. I was ill-prepared for how to best allow 3 little girls enjoy camp and also keep them quiet after "lights out". Trust me, the concept of whispering does not last long for girls that age, especially on the first night of camp when excitement and fear combine to create an atmosphere of giggles, screams, and whines. One of my campers presented me with two pill boxes for the week, which contained more pills than any elderly person probably takes. As I lay in bed that night trying to quiet the girls down, I was wishing I could give a double dose of the nighttime medications, but I resisted. And after two trips to the bathroom with two different girls, we finally all settled down for the night at around 11:30. I think this is when I took a shower. I didn't get the girls showered until the next morning. Whew, what a day!
The next three days were pretty similar if not busier, but each day I felt a little more prepared and had a little more rapport with my campers. They were more tired each night, so thankfully bedtime was easier each night. Before camp was over, they had been horseback riding, gem mining, played tennis, went to a swimming pool, and spent a day on a lake swimming, tubing, and skiing.
So you may still be wondering how I became filled as my energy became sapped. First of all, I prayed before the camp for God to give me the selflessness to continually place campers above myself and even other volunteers' needs above my own. I don't know if I succeeded in this or not, but I did feel God's mercy on me as I woke up at 4:30am when one of my campers fell out of the top bunk (she was basically ok, considering the height from which she fell), I felt a patience that was not my own when I was awakened at 5:30am another day by a girl who had just wet the bed and was covered in urine (and it smelled), and I felt God's provision when I happened to be watching and close enough to jump in the pool as one of my campers sunk to the bottom and nearly drowned. How could I not be filled when I have been so blessed beyond my own patience and power?
Also, I was impacted this year even more than last year by the sheer reality of this camp and the fact that it exists. In a perfect world, there would be no need for an amputee camp. There would be no children born with under-developed or missing limbs. There would be no young lives that have been interrupted unapologetically by cancer. In a perfect world these precious kids would not need to gather together in order to feel accepted and loved for who they are. In a perfect world this camp would not exist. Last year, I absolutely LOVED this camp and had a great time. This year, I absolutely fell IN LOVE with the kids for whom the camp exists. Each of the kids is unique and special, and it is a joy to look them in the eyes and try to learn who they are. I am so thankful to have been invited into their lives for even a few days, and I look forward to watching many of them grow into young men and women in the years to come. I still have no idea what any of these kids (or any adults) with amputations experience on a daily basis, though I have seen the logistics of putting on and taking off prosethetic limbs, writing and eating with one or no hands, and navigating stairs or hills with crutches or prosthetic legs. I still don't know what it is like to look in the mirror and not see a symmetrical reflection, but I am learning to look at each of my new friends and see a complete and wonderful person. So I guess my spirit was filled last week by a dose of harsh reality that was followed and overwhelmed by a dose of sweet comeraderie.
I left Atlanta early on Wednesday morning with the full expectation that I would struggle with the demands of camp. After two months off from school, work, or anything that resembles work, I have grown quite accustomed to keeping my own hours and I have had the luxury of placing my own needs on the forefront of every day. I haven't exactly been selfish, so to speak, but I have also not been required to be selfLESS very much. And that is exactly what camp requires. Even before leaving Atlanta, I found myself with two small girls holding onto me for dear life and begging me to ride in their van. I'm not usually a kid magnet, but they saw a familiar face and so I became a magnet and a haven of safety for them. As it turns out, these were two of my three campers for the week, which I found out when we arrived at the Nantahala Outdoor Center a few hours later. My third camper was a girl who attended camp for the first time and did not find me or anyone else to be a haven of safety for the first few days. She was quiet, had difficulty walking (and so would I if I had two prosthetic limbs), and did not adapt well to being told when to do things and where to go.
After a quick lunch, a chaotic reunion between many campers and counselors, and a change of clothes, we all went whitewater rafting. The little kids were on a relatively benign river with a few large ripples of water every now and then. The bigger kids (and me) went on the Nantahala River, which was not at all benign and a cool 55 degrees which left my toes numb by the time we finished the 8-mile ride. Dinner and dry clothes were wonderful, and then the first attempt at bedtime enforcement began. I was ill-prepared for how to best allow 3 little girls enjoy camp and also keep them quiet after "lights out". Trust me, the concept of whispering does not last long for girls that age, especially on the first night of camp when excitement and fear combine to create an atmosphere of giggles, screams, and whines. One of my campers presented me with two pill boxes for the week, which contained more pills than any elderly person probably takes. As I lay in bed that night trying to quiet the girls down, I was wishing I could give a double dose of the nighttime medications, but I resisted. And after two trips to the bathroom with two different girls, we finally all settled down for the night at around 11:30. I think this is when I took a shower. I didn't get the girls showered until the next morning. Whew, what a day!
The next three days were pretty similar if not busier, but each day I felt a little more prepared and had a little more rapport with my campers. They were more tired each night, so thankfully bedtime was easier each night. Before camp was over, they had been horseback riding, gem mining, played tennis, went to a swimming pool, and spent a day on a lake swimming, tubing, and skiing.
So you may still be wondering how I became filled as my energy became sapped. First of all, I prayed before the camp for God to give me the selflessness to continually place campers above myself and even other volunteers' needs above my own. I don't know if I succeeded in this or not, but I did feel God's mercy on me as I woke up at 4:30am when one of my campers fell out of the top bunk (she was basically ok, considering the height from which she fell), I felt a patience that was not my own when I was awakened at 5:30am another day by a girl who had just wet the bed and was covered in urine (and it smelled), and I felt God's provision when I happened to be watching and close enough to jump in the pool as one of my campers sunk to the bottom and nearly drowned. How could I not be filled when I have been so blessed beyond my own patience and power?
Also, I was impacted this year even more than last year by the sheer reality of this camp and the fact that it exists. In a perfect world, there would be no need for an amputee camp. There would be no children born with under-developed or missing limbs. There would be no young lives that have been interrupted unapologetically by cancer. In a perfect world these precious kids would not need to gather together in order to feel accepted and loved for who they are. In a perfect world this camp would not exist. Last year, I absolutely LOVED this camp and had a great time. This year, I absolutely fell IN LOVE with the kids for whom the camp exists. Each of the kids is unique and special, and it is a joy to look them in the eyes and try to learn who they are. I am so thankful to have been invited into their lives for even a few days, and I look forward to watching many of them grow into young men and women in the years to come. I still have no idea what any of these kids (or any adults) with amputations experience on a daily basis, though I have seen the logistics of putting on and taking off prosethetic limbs, writing and eating with one or no hands, and navigating stairs or hills with crutches or prosthetic legs. I still don't know what it is like to look in the mirror and not see a symmetrical reflection, but I am learning to look at each of my new friends and see a complete and wonderful person. So I guess my spirit was filled last week by a dose of harsh reality that was followed and overwhelmed by a dose of sweet comeraderie.
With two of my campers on a pontoon boat at Lake Fontana
How can you not love that face?
Leg fell off... who cares!?! Having too much fun!
Two of my girls - they happened to have the same shirt.
This kid climbed the 40-foot ropes course on his first try!
Monday, July 07, 2008
Map: Summer 2008
I'm not sure where to start, but let's just say I started in Atlanta and now I am here again, thousands of miles later. As I took a deep breath today and recounted where all I have driven, flown, slept, eaten, and run in the last 2 months, I thought of those maps in the Bible that show you where Paul traveled. So I made my own map, which you can see below. The solid colored lines represent trips when I was driving and the spray paint looking lines are flights. Unlike the treks of Paul, I did not walk or ride an animal to get from place to place, though I did ride a horse while I was in California. I stayed in some of the cities (listed on the legend) one night and in some for up to 5 nights, and overall I have slept in 21 different places in the past 2 months. Zero of these places have been in my own bed, and I am looking forward with much longing to the day that I will see it again. I don't have the time or the energy right now to explain all these travels in further detail, so I will try to hit the highlights over the next few weeks with some pictures and memories. In short, I feel truly blessed to even know of 21 different places to stay and people to stay with in various cities from Charlotte to Austin to Ann Arbor. I stayed in 3 hotels and 2 beach condos, so I guess that leaves 16 houses or apartments where people invited me in (ok, sometimes I invited myself) and welcomed me for some amount of time into their homes. I regret that I don't have a home right now so that I can return the favors and extend the same hospitality to these friends, but someday I look forward to having you all over to visit... somewhere.
Colored Water
I was at the beach a few weeks ago and saw this crazy reflection on the water right around sunset. The crazy thing was that (a) the sun had already set when I took this picture, and (b) the sun was more in the direction of the dark water and behind me than where the orange water was. I've never seen anything quite like it before.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Free Beer!
Missy, John, and I discovered the Atlanta Brewing Company for the first time last night. This brewing facility is located about 2 miles from where I live, and they have "tours" every Wednesday night at which visitors can purchase a souvenir glass for $7. With the glass, you get 6 bottle caps, each good for a full glass of freshly tapped beer. The beer itself is free because it would be illegal for the brewing company to sell their beer at the manufacturing facility. And they are not trying to con people into buying the glasses, because they also have plastic cups available for free if you'd rather not buy a glass. And there was a DJ there playing music the whole time for a little entertainment. We could not believe that this place has been right under our noses for the last two years, and we just found out about it a few weeks before graduation. I am not a huge beer drinker myself, but it was a great time and I really liked a few of the brews that they offered. If I ever actually redeem 6 bottle caps during the 2-hour time frame that the "tour" is open, it will be a bad night... But a couple of glasses for $7 is still a great deal. I discovered that I like hefeweizen, which means something about wheat beer, so I even learned something new. I have been writing tour in quotes because noone actually went on the tour. The little sitting area around the bar was full of tour patrons, but when the tour was announced we all chose to sit around and enjoy the beer instead. Maybe next week we will make time for the tour.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Spring
As is typical for me this time of year, I am basking in the wonderful joys of Spring. The warm weather (except for the last few days), the sun shining, the trees blooming, and everyone generally finding excuses to be outside and active. Winter simply encourages me to huddle up, move as little as possible, stay inside, and pray for Spring.
So praise God for Spring and for all the newness, warmth, and energy that it brings every year. I took the photo below at a Georgia Tech baseball game last weekend against Miami. GT lost pretty badly, but it was a beautiful night. It was also a somber night, because one of the GT players had died the day before this game. As far as I know, noone knows why or how he died yet, but it was sudden and very unexpected. Under the gorgeous Spring sky, as the sun is beginning to set behind the camera, the field and the players appear as usual. But if you look closely in the foreground, along the 3rd base line, you will see the number 40 painted onto the impeccably maintained grass. This was in honor of the boy who just a few nights before was in uniform with his friends and teammates. It was kind of strange for me as a disconnected spectator. I can't imagine what his teammates and family were going through.
So praise God for Spring and for all the newness, warmth, and energy that it brings every year. I took the photo below at a Georgia Tech baseball game last weekend against Miami. GT lost pretty badly, but it was a beautiful night. It was also a somber night, because one of the GT players had died the day before this game. As far as I know, noone knows why or how he died yet, but it was sudden and very unexpected. Under the gorgeous Spring sky, as the sun is beginning to set behind the camera, the field and the players appear as usual. But if you look closely in the foreground, along the 3rd base line, you will see the number 40 painted onto the impeccably maintained grass. This was in honor of the boy who just a few nights before was in uniform with his friends and teammates. It was kind of strange for me as a disconnected spectator. I can't imagine what his teammates and family were going through.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
The Light
I had the distinct pleasure this Easter morning of enjoying a sunrise service on the top of a mountain. Well, ok, if Stone Mountain counts as a mountain... in actuality it is a bug hunk of granite rock. Nevertheless, I was at a high elevation with a view of the entire city of Atlanta and beyond. It all started at 5:15am, when I met up with some of my friends from church at one of their houses. We drove to Stone Mountain Park and then proceeded to hike up the mountain towards the top. It's 1 mile up the side of the rock. As we were walking, Don commented on the beautiful full moon that we were enjoying, as otherwise the sky was completely dark. He said, "You know, if someone had never seen the sun, they would probably think that the moon was really bright, but it pales in comparison to the real light of the sun." Something I'm sure you have heard before, as I have, but really it is amazing the clear picture that we saw of this as darkness turned into light before our eyes. You can see in this first photo what the sky looked like when we got to the top of the mountain. Dark. Actually, this was not right when we got there because the skyline was not even lighting up yet at that time, but still you can see that it was dark. If you scan the middle of the picture, just below the lightening horizon, that is the ground below. It is where we live. It was completely black. And even though we have created little lights to help us see the roads or our front doors or parking lots, viewed from this elevation it is clear that we do not provide much light for ourselves at all. See the little specks dotting the ground? This was not a forest, you are looking at the city, granted it is not the downtown area. I'm sure I don't have to point out, but I will, that this is what our lives are like when we attempt to live on our own. We attempt to shed a little light on our circumstances or those of our friends and family. We try to understand the world around us. We even try to show others the way. But if we are not living in the true Light and leading each other there constantly, we reduce ourselves to the little specks of light. They don't illuminate beyond our little personal space, if that. Ok, moving on….
So this next photo was taken at literally the first moment that I saw the sun peek up over the horizon. See the little top edge of the sun? It is barely there at all, and yet look at the brightness! The world is suddenly illuminated. The little specks of light on the ground are vastly outshined. They are insignificant, and so are our own efforts to lead ourselves and others in this world. I had to ask myself later, am I truly experiencing the Light in my life right now? Or am I blindly feeling my way through tough decisions and relationships and demands? Is my flashlight shining, or have I done away with my insignificant source of light? Am I more comfortable with the flashlight, not wanting to really see my life for what it is? And you will probably agree that was enough questions for one day. Praise God that He loves us enough to provide Light when we are lost, which if we are honest is pretty much every day.
So this next photo was taken at literally the first moment that I saw the sun peek up over the horizon. See the little top edge of the sun? It is barely there at all, and yet look at the brightness! The world is suddenly illuminated. The little specks of light on the ground are vastly outshined. They are insignificant, and so are our own efforts to lead ourselves and others in this world. I had to ask myself later, am I truly experiencing the Light in my life right now? Or am I blindly feeling my way through tough decisions and relationships and demands? Is my flashlight shining, or have I done away with my insignificant source of light? Am I more comfortable with the flashlight, not wanting to really see my life for what it is? And you will probably agree that was enough questions for one day. Praise God that He loves us enough to provide Light when we are lost, which if we are honest is pretty much every day.
The rest of the sunrise…
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
You do the Math
A few weeks ago, I realized that I was going to have to board my dog for a then upcoming trip. I was heading to Orlando for a conference and would be gone for 4 days. Because I was returning on a Saturday night, in boarding terms that would equal to 6 days as they are not open on Sundays. The place that I normally board my dog is conveniently within a few miles of my place, but it costs $27/night. For 6 nights, that would be over $162. So, being the resourceful person that I am, I decided to find a different kennel for Kelsey. I was very excited to locate a place in Alpharetta (about 30 miles from my place) that would board her for $18/night. AND as a special bonus, they offered a 5th night free discount, and furthermore, they had a Sunday pickup time! With this wonderful find, I was down to $72 total plus a $20 bath - why not? Even with the extra cost of gas for driving to Alpharetta and back (twice) it was still much cheaper than the alternative.
Everything went swimmingly until a few days after I picked Kelsey up from this kennel. In the middle of the night last Thursday, at about precisely 3am, she startled me in the middle of the night with a fit of coughing and heaving that had me fearing her imminent death. After a few minutes of freaking out for both of us, she stopped hacking and sort of looked at me like what just happened and why didn't you prevent it? I apologized profusely (yes, to my dog), gave her a few love pats, and then settled back into bed. A few hours later, same deal, hacking, coughing, heaving, freaking, etc. Then it was over again. I sort of hoped it would go away, but Friday night proved to be about the same, not to mention she had a few fits during the day on Friday. Saturday morning, it hit me all of a sudden - one of the required vaccinations for boarding your dog is for kennel cough. I quickly googled this and found that Kelsey's symptoms were remarkably similar to the description. It turns out kennel cough is highly contagious in dogs and not surpisingly is commonly picked up in kennels. So off we went to the vet, who was thankfully able to see her on a Saturday and on short notice. She agreed that it was probably kennel cough and prescribed some antibiotics.
Here is where the math comes in. The vet cost $78 for the visit and medication. So did I save any money after all? Ok, I'll do the math for you. No, I did not save money. In fact, it has now cost me more money in total than it would have been to just board Kelsey at the expensive kennel. Sigh. I sort of felt God laughing at me as I realized all of this. Not that he enjoys seeing me get exasperated, but in the grand scheme of things, all of my planning and scheming just didn't amount to much. Pretty typical of the planning and scheming of my little earthly self.
Everything went swimmingly until a few days after I picked Kelsey up from this kennel. In the middle of the night last Thursday, at about precisely 3am, she startled me in the middle of the night with a fit of coughing and heaving that had me fearing her imminent death. After a few minutes of freaking out for both of us, she stopped hacking and sort of looked at me like what just happened and why didn't you prevent it? I apologized profusely (yes, to my dog), gave her a few love pats, and then settled back into bed. A few hours later, same deal, hacking, coughing, heaving, freaking, etc. Then it was over again. I sort of hoped it would go away, but Friday night proved to be about the same, not to mention she had a few fits during the day on Friday. Saturday morning, it hit me all of a sudden - one of the required vaccinations for boarding your dog is for kennel cough. I quickly googled this and found that Kelsey's symptoms were remarkably similar to the description. It turns out kennel cough is highly contagious in dogs and not surpisingly is commonly picked up in kennels. So off we went to the vet, who was thankfully able to see her on a Saturday and on short notice. She agreed that it was probably kennel cough and prescribed some antibiotics.
Here is where the math comes in. The vet cost $78 for the visit and medication. So did I save any money after all? Ok, I'll do the math for you. No, I did not save money. In fact, it has now cost me more money in total than it would have been to just board Kelsey at the expensive kennel. Sigh. I sort of felt God laughing at me as I realized all of this. Not that he enjoys seeing me get exasperated, but in the grand scheme of things, all of my planning and scheming just didn't amount to much. Pretty typical of the planning and scheming of my little earthly self.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
The Fabric of America
This week has been extremely eye-opening for me, my circumstances causing me several times to stop and think about this country that we live in, for good or for bad. If you know me well, then you know that I LOVE America. The 4th of July has become my favorite holiday as an adult, not for the fireworks but for the sheer joy of celebrating this great country. Go to another country for a week - not a vacation hot spot, but seriously just another normal place - and your patriotism will also be increased. But then there are places in this country that might challenge that patriotism as well. In Atlanta, that place is downtown at night, or along Ponce de Leon Ave even in the middle of the day. These are the places where freedom is not so clearly experienced, where the law is often optional, and where your understanding of your place in this world will be challenged if you aren't driving by fast enough or if you make eye contact with one of the unfortunate souls who call the streets their home. But I am getting ahead of myself here. Let's go back to Monday of this week...
On Monday I arrived promptly at the Fulton County Courthouse at 7:45am, ready to perform my civic duty as a juror. It is interesting to me that this "civic duty" is undertaken by Americans with such apathy and disdain. If someone from another planet (not that I think there is life on other planets) were to peek in on the multitude of faces assembled for jury duty, they might mistake the gathering for a prison camp. The grumblings of the early morning continue on throughout the day as this torturous duty continues to rob each person present of their daily life, the job that they probably complain about anyway, the mundane tasks like grocery shopping and house cleaning, the solitude of a lonely home for some and the overcrowded bustle of the city for others. Is one day of sitting in a room with a few hudred of your fellow citizens really that bad? If I were the person on trial or on the side of the prosecution, I would surely hope that this group did not decide my fate. But isn't the crowd just being a little melodramatic? When actually faced with the prospect of a trial and a decision, isn't the average American pretty responsible, fair, and genuinely interested in doing the right thing? I don't know, but I hope so. As I was leaving the court house that afternoon with this same crowded mass of potential jurors (those of us who didn't get picked), one man's comments on the presidential primary election was disturbing to me. He was obviously a Democrat, but that was not the disturbing part. What got me was his overgeneralization, his stereotyping, and the realization that he probably represented with his words what the average American understands of our election process. He said, "Well, Edwards dropped out of the election. All the women will vote for Hillary, all the black folks will vote for Obama, but there's noone left now for the white man to vote for." Initially, this may seem funny to you, but it was not funny to me because I could tell that this guy was not joking. He was actually that shallow. How many Americans out there do this, just looking at each candidate and voting for the one that most looks like themselves? Am I the only one that finds this more than a little bit disturbing? I'm not even terribly big into politics, but honestly, I do take the time if I am going to vote to at least review the views and opininons of the candidates, voting based on ideology rather than on skin color. Ok, that's enough ranting about that issue. But while we're on the subject of voting...
On Tuesday morning, I pulled myself out of bed early again, this time not for a civic duty but for a civic right, my right to vote. This is another place where the fabric of America comes alive, but not quite as much as at jury duty, the voting polls of course being determined based on more specific residential location. My residential location is in a rather affluent part of the city, so I was mostly surrounded by people like me except with a lot more money. I will spare you my comments on the volunteers and their lack of computer acuity, but suffice it to say that I waited 30 minutes while one person at a time voted in a room with 10 voting stations.
The night before the primary election, while doing my typical quick review of the candidates, I was struck most of all by Mitt Romney. Not struck in the sense that I wanted to vote for Mitt Romney, but struck by discovering the power and prestige and pedigree of education that his family holds. I don't fault him or his four very well-to-do (and not so bad-looking) sons for having what they have. Nor can I argue with the probability that this man could surely handle the job of the presidency. It just strikes me as odd that this is still America. Mitt Romney is America just as much as the poorly-informed man at jury duty, and the men and women who live on the streets of Atlanta are just as much part of this fabric as well. Truly, America is woven in such a way that it is nearly impossible at times to see the transition from one thread to another, and at the same time the opposite ends of the fabric don't even look like they are part of the same cloth. I guess it is the freedoms we have that allow our differences to co-exist. And yet some of those differences look more like oppression at times than simple diversity.
So back to Ponce de Leon Ave here in Atlanta. My church is actually on Ponce, and therefore we are one block from the Fabulous Fox Theater on one side and one block from a haven of prostitution, addiction, and hopelessness on the other side. This is America. Last night we had an Ash Wednesday service, and afterwards I went downstairs to use the bathroom. I was warned before going in that a woman was in there changing clothes but that it was ok to go anyway. I walked in to find Kelli there, half naked and talking somewhat incoherently but praising God in her own way for the fresh set of clothes. I met Kelli a few months ago when she wandered up in ftont of our church before Sunday morning service. We talked a little, she cried, we prayed. She had some coffee and pastries and then went on her way, not returning later that day for help that was promised in finding a place to sleep that night. This happened again two more times over the last few months, a quick hello, her report that things aren't good, a call for help, but inevitably the refusal of real assistance beyond food and the freedom to sleep on our church steps at night. Last night was different, but I didn't stay long enough at first to find out. I was uncomfortable with continuing to go through the motions with Kelli, my heart a little bit hardened and confused at her behavior, and so I left. I was praying on my way home for Kelli and for my own heart when my phone rang. It was Daniel from church asking if I had time to turn around and go back to the church to help Kelli. God answered my prayer with the opportunity to help, and he answered Kelli's prayer to be removed from the streets, from heroin, from her pimp, from the harsh cold of the night, and from constant desperation. I went with another lady in the church to dinner with Kelli (a real restaurant! she exclaimed, and wow, it is so different being in a car instead of walking on these streets), and then we took her to the Atlanta Greyhound bus station and bought her a ticket home to North Carolina. She called her mother who of course agreed to meet her at the bus station in the morning. We sat at the station for a few hours, wanting to make sure that Kelli got on that bus and not into the strip club across the street. And so I had a few more hours of experiencing another part of America that I don't usually think of when I celebrate our freedom on July 4th - the not-so-glorious or efficient but ever-bustling bus station. There were people of all ages and races waiting to go to Texas or Florida, Mississippi or North Carolina. One lady had been travelling all the way from Phoenix and was headed to parents' day with her daughter at Fort Bragg in North Carolina. I thought, why would anyone take a bus that far instead of a plane? Of course, she probably didn't have the money to fly. I may complain about the high price of airline tickets, but I am still fortunate enough to be able to pay the high price. And so my America is a little different from that lady's America.
Right about now you may be wondering whether I have a point in all of this discussion, and I am wondering the same thing. I guess I have been a little disappointed in America a few times this week, and I have also been brimming with pride a few times. At the end of the day, it's just sort a beautiful thing that we all fit, and that this great country does work, however dysfunctionally. I still don't know what to say, though, about the man who's looking for a white guy to vote for. I hope that God blesses America with an abundance of people who actually think before voting. This won't change the Fabric of America, for better or worse, but maybe it will at least reduce the dysfunction a little bit.
On Monday I arrived promptly at the Fulton County Courthouse at 7:45am, ready to perform my civic duty as a juror. It is interesting to me that this "civic duty" is undertaken by Americans with such apathy and disdain. If someone from another planet (not that I think there is life on other planets) were to peek in on the multitude of faces assembled for jury duty, they might mistake the gathering for a prison camp. The grumblings of the early morning continue on throughout the day as this torturous duty continues to rob each person present of their daily life, the job that they probably complain about anyway, the mundane tasks like grocery shopping and house cleaning, the solitude of a lonely home for some and the overcrowded bustle of the city for others. Is one day of sitting in a room with a few hudred of your fellow citizens really that bad? If I were the person on trial or on the side of the prosecution, I would surely hope that this group did not decide my fate. But isn't the crowd just being a little melodramatic? When actually faced with the prospect of a trial and a decision, isn't the average American pretty responsible, fair, and genuinely interested in doing the right thing? I don't know, but I hope so. As I was leaving the court house that afternoon with this same crowded mass of potential jurors (those of us who didn't get picked), one man's comments on the presidential primary election was disturbing to me. He was obviously a Democrat, but that was not the disturbing part. What got me was his overgeneralization, his stereotyping, and the realization that he probably represented with his words what the average American understands of our election process. He said, "Well, Edwards dropped out of the election. All the women will vote for Hillary, all the black folks will vote for Obama, but there's noone left now for the white man to vote for." Initially, this may seem funny to you, but it was not funny to me because I could tell that this guy was not joking. He was actually that shallow. How many Americans out there do this, just looking at each candidate and voting for the one that most looks like themselves? Am I the only one that finds this more than a little bit disturbing? I'm not even terribly big into politics, but honestly, I do take the time if I am going to vote to at least review the views and opininons of the candidates, voting based on ideology rather than on skin color. Ok, that's enough ranting about that issue. But while we're on the subject of voting...
On Tuesday morning, I pulled myself out of bed early again, this time not for a civic duty but for a civic right, my right to vote. This is another place where the fabric of America comes alive, but not quite as much as at jury duty, the voting polls of course being determined based on more specific residential location. My residential location is in a rather affluent part of the city, so I was mostly surrounded by people like me except with a lot more money. I will spare you my comments on the volunteers and their lack of computer acuity, but suffice it to say that I waited 30 minutes while one person at a time voted in a room with 10 voting stations.
The night before the primary election, while doing my typical quick review of the candidates, I was struck most of all by Mitt Romney. Not struck in the sense that I wanted to vote for Mitt Romney, but struck by discovering the power and prestige and pedigree of education that his family holds. I don't fault him or his four very well-to-do (and not so bad-looking) sons for having what they have. Nor can I argue with the probability that this man could surely handle the job of the presidency. It just strikes me as odd that this is still America. Mitt Romney is America just as much as the poorly-informed man at jury duty, and the men and women who live on the streets of Atlanta are just as much part of this fabric as well. Truly, America is woven in such a way that it is nearly impossible at times to see the transition from one thread to another, and at the same time the opposite ends of the fabric don't even look like they are part of the same cloth. I guess it is the freedoms we have that allow our differences to co-exist. And yet some of those differences look more like oppression at times than simple diversity.
So back to Ponce de Leon Ave here in Atlanta. My church is actually on Ponce, and therefore we are one block from the Fabulous Fox Theater on one side and one block from a haven of prostitution, addiction, and hopelessness on the other side. This is America. Last night we had an Ash Wednesday service, and afterwards I went downstairs to use the bathroom. I was warned before going in that a woman was in there changing clothes but that it was ok to go anyway. I walked in to find Kelli there, half naked and talking somewhat incoherently but praising God in her own way for the fresh set of clothes. I met Kelli a few months ago when she wandered up in ftont of our church before Sunday morning service. We talked a little, she cried, we prayed. She had some coffee and pastries and then went on her way, not returning later that day for help that was promised in finding a place to sleep that night. This happened again two more times over the last few months, a quick hello, her report that things aren't good, a call for help, but inevitably the refusal of real assistance beyond food and the freedom to sleep on our church steps at night. Last night was different, but I didn't stay long enough at first to find out. I was uncomfortable with continuing to go through the motions with Kelli, my heart a little bit hardened and confused at her behavior, and so I left. I was praying on my way home for Kelli and for my own heart when my phone rang. It was Daniel from church asking if I had time to turn around and go back to the church to help Kelli. God answered my prayer with the opportunity to help, and he answered Kelli's prayer to be removed from the streets, from heroin, from her pimp, from the harsh cold of the night, and from constant desperation. I went with another lady in the church to dinner with Kelli (a real restaurant! she exclaimed, and wow, it is so different being in a car instead of walking on these streets), and then we took her to the Atlanta Greyhound bus station and bought her a ticket home to North Carolina. She called her mother who of course agreed to meet her at the bus station in the morning. We sat at the station for a few hours, wanting to make sure that Kelli got on that bus and not into the strip club across the street. And so I had a few more hours of experiencing another part of America that I don't usually think of when I celebrate our freedom on July 4th - the not-so-glorious or efficient but ever-bustling bus station. There were people of all ages and races waiting to go to Texas or Florida, Mississippi or North Carolina. One lady had been travelling all the way from Phoenix and was headed to parents' day with her daughter at Fort Bragg in North Carolina. I thought, why would anyone take a bus that far instead of a plane? Of course, she probably didn't have the money to fly. I may complain about the high price of airline tickets, but I am still fortunate enough to be able to pay the high price. And so my America is a little different from that lady's America.
Right about now you may be wondering whether I have a point in all of this discussion, and I am wondering the same thing. I guess I have been a little disappointed in America a few times this week, and I have also been brimming with pride a few times. At the end of the day, it's just sort a beautiful thing that we all fit, and that this great country does work, however dysfunctionally. I still don't know what to say, though, about the man who's looking for a white guy to vote for. I hope that God blesses America with an abundance of people who actually think before voting. This won't change the Fabric of America, for better or worse, but maybe it will at least reduce the dysfunction a little bit.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Overdue Update, Part II
The rest of the story…
So, we arrived in Baton Rouge and parked on the outskirts of the LSU campus at a house that belongs to friends of Hale and Sandra. We tailgated there for several hours. I met several friends of theirs who I assume knew who I was. Mostly everyone was talking about the impending LSU-Florida game so there was no need for getting into deep discussions about why I was there, which was fine with me. Everyone was a little concerned about my affiliation with Auburn but happy to know that I was pulling for LSU that day. After a few hours of tailgating there, eating wonderful food and having a few pre-game drinks, we began a somewhat long walk towards campus to look for Allison, Hale’s daughter, and his goddaughter Jenny (both students at LSU). After a few cell phone calls and quite a bit of walking, we were able to find Allison and Jenny, so I met them for the first time right near the LSU Memorial clock tower by the library. Allison is a junior at LSU. After a few quick introductions, we walked over to a building nearby and met up with my parents, who were tailgating there with friends. More introductions followed, and we all sort of mingled for several minutes before Allison, Jenny, and Brian decided to take off and do their own thing. Hale and Sandra stayed with me for a little bit longer to visit with my parents, and then I took off with them to head towards the stadium. The campus was absolutely crazy, so we enjoyed taking in the sights, the crowds, and the chaos. Eventually we made our way to the stadium and found our seats, right near the very top of the nosebleed section. Surprisingly though, because it was such a big game and the crowd was so wild, it really didn’t seem like we were so high up in the stands. It was a great game. Long story short – LSU won and we had a great time cheering for them together. I didn’t know if Sandra was very into football, but she was right there in the mix and just as excited as anyone around, so we all had a great time. Geaux tigers!
With Hale and Sandra Post-Game
After the game, Hale and Sandra gave me a ride to my parents’ house, so I stayed the night there while they stayed with some friends of theirs nearby. They had lunch that day with Brian and Allison while I went to church and ate lunch with my parents, and they stopped by mid-afternoon to pick me up and to spend a few more minutes with my parents. I rode back to Jeanerette with Hale, Sandra, and Brian, and I spent a little time late afternoon at the bayou house relaxing while they went home. Hale picked me up for dinner, and we went to a very posh sushi restaurant at a casino in the middle of the sugar cane fields about 15 minutes or so from his house. Who would have thunk that this nice restaurant would be right there in the backwoods, but there it was, and it was very good. We enjoyed fresh sushi and a wine selection chosen by the restaurant manager.
That night I ended up staying at Hale’s house, and Monday morning we went to my favorite restaurant for breakfast. After some eggs, scrambled light, and hashbrowns just the way I like ‘em, we headed towards the airport. We started to say our goodbyes as Hale walked me in to check in, but before we knew it we were walking right back out – flight delayed. We ended up having quite a few hours of extra time to linger around in Lafayette, so I had the opportunity and pleasure to meet a gentleman named Mr. Lee.
Let me now diverge a little to explain who Mr. Lee is... The first night that I met Hale, when I stayed at his bayou house, I noticed a few wooden bowls and vases in the kitchen. They were very beautiful, made of many different types of wood, and appeared to be hand-crafted. I lifted one of them up and noticed on the bottom a name, a date, and a description of the types of wood in that piece. After appreciating the small collection of bowls in the kitchen, I happened to see a few of them in the bedroom, and in the bathroom, and then I noticed the mother-load stored in the bedroom closet. Wow, I thought, I’ll have to remember to ask about these things. Of course, this was at the end of a long and monumental day. At some point in the weekend I did remember to ask about the bowls, thinking that maybe a relative of Hale’s had made them. He explained to me that he had bought one of them one day at a craft fair, and after driving off and examining it closely, he promptly drove back and bought the rest of them that were for sale. When he asked for information about the artist who crafted them, he got no further than the name of the man who lived in Lafayette. So, getting to the point, Hale has since found and befriended Mr. Lee, a retired engineer who has picked up the hobby of woodworking in his retirement. Every couple of weeks, Hale stops by Mr. Lee’s house for a visit and pretty much buys everything he makes. I was intrigued by this, so when we found ourselves with the extra time on Monday morning, Hale took me to meet Mr. Lee. He and his wife were at home and invited us in to visit. Mr. Lee took us back into his shop and showed me all of his woodworking tools and machines. He was working on a new bowl for which he showed me his CAD design printout, and he let us watch him work for a few minutes.
Needless to say, meeting Mr. Lee was a nice and unexpected surprise, but of course the whole weekend was a new and exciting adventure. Hale and his family were welcoming hosts, and I have already had the opportunity during my Christmas break to visit them again.
So, now I don’t have any more huge unanswered questions about my past and my adoption. Of course, this is not the end but another beginning.
So, we arrived in Baton Rouge and parked on the outskirts of the LSU campus at a house that belongs to friends of Hale and Sandra. We tailgated there for several hours. I met several friends of theirs who I assume knew who I was. Mostly everyone was talking about the impending LSU-Florida game so there was no need for getting into deep discussions about why I was there, which was fine with me. Everyone was a little concerned about my affiliation with Auburn but happy to know that I was pulling for LSU that day. After a few hours of tailgating there, eating wonderful food and having a few pre-game drinks, we began a somewhat long walk towards campus to look for Allison, Hale’s daughter, and his goddaughter Jenny (both students at LSU). After a few cell phone calls and quite a bit of walking, we were able to find Allison and Jenny, so I met them for the first time right near the LSU Memorial clock tower by the library. Allison is a junior at LSU. After a few quick introductions, we walked over to a building nearby and met up with my parents, who were tailgating there with friends. More introductions followed, and we all sort of mingled for several minutes before Allison, Jenny, and Brian decided to take off and do their own thing. Hale and Sandra stayed with me for a little bit longer to visit with my parents, and then I took off with them to head towards the stadium. The campus was absolutely crazy, so we enjoyed taking in the sights, the crowds, and the chaos. Eventually we made our way to the stadium and found our seats, right near the very top of the nosebleed section. Surprisingly though, because it was such a big game and the crowd was so wild, it really didn’t seem like we were so high up in the stands. It was a great game. Long story short – LSU won and we had a great time cheering for them together. I didn’t know if Sandra was very into football, but she was right there in the mix and just as excited as anyone around, so we all had a great time. Geaux tigers!
Sandra, Jenny, Hale, Allison, Brian, me
With Mom and Dad Pre-Game
With Hale and Sandra Post-GameAfter the game, Hale and Sandra gave me a ride to my parents’ house, so I stayed the night there while they stayed with some friends of theirs nearby. They had lunch that day with Brian and Allison while I went to church and ate lunch with my parents, and they stopped by mid-afternoon to pick me up and to spend a few more minutes with my parents. I rode back to Jeanerette with Hale, Sandra, and Brian, and I spent a little time late afternoon at the bayou house relaxing while they went home. Hale picked me up for dinner, and we went to a very posh sushi restaurant at a casino in the middle of the sugar cane fields about 15 minutes or so from his house. Who would have thunk that this nice restaurant would be right there in the backwoods, but there it was, and it was very good. We enjoyed fresh sushi and a wine selection chosen by the restaurant manager.
That night I ended up staying at Hale’s house, and Monday morning we went to my favorite restaurant for breakfast. After some eggs, scrambled light, and hashbrowns just the way I like ‘em, we headed towards the airport. We started to say our goodbyes as Hale walked me in to check in, but before we knew it we were walking right back out – flight delayed. We ended up having quite a few hours of extra time to linger around in Lafayette, so I had the opportunity and pleasure to meet a gentleman named Mr. Lee.
Let me now diverge a little to explain who Mr. Lee is... The first night that I met Hale, when I stayed at his bayou house, I noticed a few wooden bowls and vases in the kitchen. They were very beautiful, made of many different types of wood, and appeared to be hand-crafted. I lifted one of them up and noticed on the bottom a name, a date, and a description of the types of wood in that piece. After appreciating the small collection of bowls in the kitchen, I happened to see a few of them in the bedroom, and in the bathroom, and then I noticed the mother-load stored in the bedroom closet. Wow, I thought, I’ll have to remember to ask about these things. Of course, this was at the end of a long and monumental day. At some point in the weekend I did remember to ask about the bowls, thinking that maybe a relative of Hale’s had made them. He explained to me that he had bought one of them one day at a craft fair, and after driving off and examining it closely, he promptly drove back and bought the rest of them that were for sale. When he asked for information about the artist who crafted them, he got no further than the name of the man who lived in Lafayette. So, getting to the point, Hale has since found and befriended Mr. Lee, a retired engineer who has picked up the hobby of woodworking in his retirement. Every couple of weeks, Hale stops by Mr. Lee’s house for a visit and pretty much buys everything he makes. I was intrigued by this, so when we found ourselves with the extra time on Monday morning, Hale took me to meet Mr. Lee. He and his wife were at home and invited us in to visit. Mr. Lee took us back into his shop and showed me all of his woodworking tools and machines. He was working on a new bowl for which he showed me his CAD design printout, and he let us watch him work for a few minutes.
Needless to say, meeting Mr. Lee was a nice and unexpected surprise, but of course the whole weekend was a new and exciting adventure. Hale and his family were welcoming hosts, and I have already had the opportunity during my Christmas break to visit them again.
So, now I don’t have any more huge unanswered questions about my past and my adoption. Of course, this is not the end but another beginning.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Overdue Update, Part I
The snow is falling here in Atlanta, building up a nice little collection on the cars, trees, and grass outside. This is big news here in Georgia, so the news stations are reporting very diligently that in fact the snow is falling, that it is white, and that the roads will inevitably be slick tonight. One Department of Transportation representative suggested that everyone “just don’t go out”. I am obediently staying in, trying to keep a fire going, and enjoying the view out of my window. Incidentally, the snow looks about the same in Cobb, Fulton, and Gwinnett counties per the local broadcasts.
This should be a great day to take advantage of being homebound and study for the big exam that I have on Tuesday, but alas, I am not in the mood. So until the mood hits me, I will busy myself with other things. The poor, unattended blog has thus entered my mind, so I will attempt to make up for some lost time. As the fire in my fireplace is virtually dying, I will take a stab at bringing to life some long-overdue updates on life.
If you have kept up with this narrative of my random thoughts and occasional updates, you probably remember that in August of 2006 I began a new adventure by contacting Marcia, my birth mother. It has been a wonderful year and half since that time of catching up on the 28 years we did not know one another, meeting and getting to know each other’s families, and generally moving forward with a new relationship that I had never quite imagined would be so enriching.
The new news is that in August of 2007, I took another big leap of faith and contacted my biological father. His name is Hale, and he lives in the small town of Jeanerette, LA. This is a little less than a 2 hour drive from Baton Rouge, where I grew up. After a few weeks of writing back and forth with Hale, he proposed that I fly down to Louisiana for a football game so that we could meet one another and enjoy something together that we both happen to love (ie – football). After a little disappointment that I would not be able to make it down for the Auburn-LSU game, we were able to arrange for me to fly down the first weekend of October. I arrived at the Lafayette, LA airport on a Friday afternoon with bags packed and heart pounding. In this small regional airport, it took only seconds after walking off of the plane to spot the 6’4” Hale, who was grinning from ear to ear and looking at me with sparkling eyes and a little glistening of tears. I could sense now in person the gentle spirit of this man who I had corresponded with and already come to appreciate as an easygoing and kind-hearted person. We walked outside and were greeted by his very loyal companion, Abby (a 6-yr old golden lab), who was obediently waiting in the back of his white pick-up truck. The drive down to Jeanerette was pleasant as we started to talk more about our lives and I heard the interesting story of how Hale ended up in what has become a dream job for him. We saw a beautiful rainbow in the sky, as there was a light rain in the air, and we could see both ends of its span across the highway and beyond. He took me first to his bayou property along the Bayou Teche, on which he has built a house for entertaining as well as relaxing (and building things in the adjacent workshop). This was to be my lodging for the night, and Abby stayed with me to keep me company. Hale and I had a drink or two, ate some wonderful gumbo that he had made earlier in the week, and chatted a bit more before he headed back home to his house up the road.
I spent a little time just sitting around after he left, taking in the environment and processing the past few hours, and then I popped in a VHS of Groundhog Day and zoned out for the night. I made it about half way through the movie before falling asleep to the sound of rain falling on the tin roof. The next morning Hale picked me up, and we went to have breakfast at a little café in downtown New Iberia (a slightly larger town near Jeanerette). While we were down there, we made a few stops. We went to see his houseboat, which was docked on the Bayou Teche right near the restaurant, having been stationed conveniently there for the Gumbo Festival which I believe had taken place the previous weekend in downtown New Iberia. We stopped by to see a friend of Hale’s who owns and operates an auto repair shop on the same street where we ate. We went to see a cousin of Hale’s who lived nearby and to whom he needed to deliver some tickets for the LSU game that night (vs Florida). We then went to visit Hale’s mother, Eve, and it was a joy to visit with her for the first time. She is in her early 70s, in overall good health, twice widowed, and according to Hale is a very strong woman. Her home was impeccably clean and orderly but at the same time warm and inviting. After a brief visit with her, we drove a few more minutes to stop by Hale’s sister Adrian’s house. She was also very inviting and is a nurse with 3 children, only one of which still lives at home but was not there at the time. Our last stop of that morning was at Hale’s cousin Wardell’s house, who was just getting ready to mow his 1-mile long (but only about 25 yds wide) stretch of backyard. Wardell, like everyone else, was very friendly, very easy-going, and we enjoyed a few minutes of laughing and talking together before leaving him to the awaiting grass.
Next on the agenda was to head back to Hale’s house and make preparations for going to the LSU game that night. We arrived around lunch time at his house, and I finally met his wife Sandra and son Brian, who is 18. I would meet his daughter later that day at LSU. Admittedly it was strange to enter their home and to make small talk, a stranger and yet in some strange way a part of this family, but we all survived the uncomfortable beginning and managed to get loaded up in the truck for the trip to Baton Rouge.
…. I’m starting to get a little tired of typing now (and you’re probably getting tired of reading), so I’ll continue this story later, probably today but I can’t say for sure.
Here are a few photos in the meantime…
Bayou house (and Abby)
This should be a great day to take advantage of being homebound and study for the big exam that I have on Tuesday, but alas, I am not in the mood. So until the mood hits me, I will busy myself with other things. The poor, unattended blog has thus entered my mind, so I will attempt to make up for some lost time. As the fire in my fireplace is virtually dying, I will take a stab at bringing to life some long-overdue updates on life.
If you have kept up with this narrative of my random thoughts and occasional updates, you probably remember that in August of 2006 I began a new adventure by contacting Marcia, my birth mother. It has been a wonderful year and half since that time of catching up on the 28 years we did not know one another, meeting and getting to know each other’s families, and generally moving forward with a new relationship that I had never quite imagined would be so enriching.
The new news is that in August of 2007, I took another big leap of faith and contacted my biological father. His name is Hale, and he lives in the small town of Jeanerette, LA. This is a little less than a 2 hour drive from Baton Rouge, where I grew up. After a few weeks of writing back and forth with Hale, he proposed that I fly down to Louisiana for a football game so that we could meet one another and enjoy something together that we both happen to love (ie – football). After a little disappointment that I would not be able to make it down for the Auburn-LSU game, we were able to arrange for me to fly down the first weekend of October. I arrived at the Lafayette, LA airport on a Friday afternoon with bags packed and heart pounding. In this small regional airport, it took only seconds after walking off of the plane to spot the 6’4” Hale, who was grinning from ear to ear and looking at me with sparkling eyes and a little glistening of tears. I could sense now in person the gentle spirit of this man who I had corresponded with and already come to appreciate as an easygoing and kind-hearted person. We walked outside and were greeted by his very loyal companion, Abby (a 6-yr old golden lab), who was obediently waiting in the back of his white pick-up truck. The drive down to Jeanerette was pleasant as we started to talk more about our lives and I heard the interesting story of how Hale ended up in what has become a dream job for him. We saw a beautiful rainbow in the sky, as there was a light rain in the air, and we could see both ends of its span across the highway and beyond. He took me first to his bayou property along the Bayou Teche, on which he has built a house for entertaining as well as relaxing (and building things in the adjacent workshop). This was to be my lodging for the night, and Abby stayed with me to keep me company. Hale and I had a drink or two, ate some wonderful gumbo that he had made earlier in the week, and chatted a bit more before he headed back home to his house up the road.
I spent a little time just sitting around after he left, taking in the environment and processing the past few hours, and then I popped in a VHS of Groundhog Day and zoned out for the night. I made it about half way through the movie before falling asleep to the sound of rain falling on the tin roof. The next morning Hale picked me up, and we went to have breakfast at a little café in downtown New Iberia (a slightly larger town near Jeanerette). While we were down there, we made a few stops. We went to see his houseboat, which was docked on the Bayou Teche right near the restaurant, having been stationed conveniently there for the Gumbo Festival which I believe had taken place the previous weekend in downtown New Iberia. We stopped by to see a friend of Hale’s who owns and operates an auto repair shop on the same street where we ate. We went to see a cousin of Hale’s who lived nearby and to whom he needed to deliver some tickets for the LSU game that night (vs Florida). We then went to visit Hale’s mother, Eve, and it was a joy to visit with her for the first time. She is in her early 70s, in overall good health, twice widowed, and according to Hale is a very strong woman. Her home was impeccably clean and orderly but at the same time warm and inviting. After a brief visit with her, we drove a few more minutes to stop by Hale’s sister Adrian’s house. She was also very inviting and is a nurse with 3 children, only one of which still lives at home but was not there at the time. Our last stop of that morning was at Hale’s cousin Wardell’s house, who was just getting ready to mow his 1-mile long (but only about 25 yds wide) stretch of backyard. Wardell, like everyone else, was very friendly, very easy-going, and we enjoyed a few minutes of laughing and talking together before leaving him to the awaiting grass.
Next on the agenda was to head back to Hale’s house and make preparations for going to the LSU game that night. We arrived around lunch time at his house, and I finally met his wife Sandra and son Brian, who is 18. I would meet his daughter later that day at LSU. Admittedly it was strange to enter their home and to make small talk, a stranger and yet in some strange way a part of this family, but we all survived the uncomfortable beginning and managed to get loaded up in the truck for the trip to Baton Rouge.
…. I’m starting to get a little tired of typing now (and you’re probably getting tired of reading), so I’ll continue this story later, probably today but I can’t say for sure.
Here are a few photos in the meantime…
Hale and his mother, Eve
Me and Eve
Bayou house (and Abby) Bayou Teche at Sunrise
Monday, December 10, 2007
Sigh of Relief
It is nice every now and then to actually remember the freedom we have to trust in God and to know that He is in control of everything. Not that "God is doing a great job of implementing my plans" or "on Sunday God can handle my life but on Monday through Saturday I have to carry the load" or "God doesn't know about my little problems and why would he care anyway". No, none of those will do. Only a confidence that He is truly in control, and moreover, He likes us - no, loves us - so much that everything we think or do or say or desire is of the utmost concern to Him. Only if we hoard our little corner of this world and try to protect it from God, then we will be left wanting. But if we leave our little lives open to Him, or better yet, if we bring ourselves and our needs and our whatever it is to Him, "he will give you the desires of your heart" (Psalm 37:4). And in the words of Anne Lamott:
"It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend to keep things running right is not what keeps things running right."
"It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend to keep things running right is not what keeps things running right."
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